


Second Verse, Same As The First

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [121]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, Folk Music, Gen, Music, Prompt Fic, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promptfic. While making camp, Hawke and crew exchange folksongs they grew up with or really enjoy. The party discovers there's a little more than a tune between them, down in the Deep Roads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Verse, Same As The First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonymousCatastrophe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousCatastrophe/gifts).



The Deep Roads were freezing. Varric swore that both his tiny dwarven treasures had abandoned ship and rolled off somewhere by now. The only saving grace was that Anders was a dab hand at healing, and Hawke was a dab hand at fire magic—though before the impenetrable labyrinth of the Deep Roads, their campfire was a mere pinprick of light and comfort. There was a faint high whine overlaid over the silence of the deeps. The song of lyrium, probably; he had no idea. And below that, a music that was definitely _not_ coming from the stone.

“Little Hawke, are you _singing_?”

The sound abruptly stopped. Carver jammed his hands into his armpits, a hastily cobbled-together look of innocence on his face. ”Iwasn’tsinging.”

“It’s a song our mother used to sing when we were children,” Hawke interjected helpfully, nudging Carver without a single whit of gentleness. “ _Deep in the valley, where nobody knows, the bluebirds sing to my scarlet rose._ ”

“And the rose will wilt, if the bluebirds sound like you, Hawke. I think I prefer your brother’s voice.”

“Please don’t sing any more,” Anders said more directly. “You’ll bring darkspawn on us.”

Hawke huffled. “ _Fine._ ”

Carver, slightly encouraged, picked up the rest of the song. His voice was raw and scratchy, but no less pleasing to the ear. “ _Andraste’s Grace and sweet vervain will tell me where you are again. Hasten home, to the places grey, and the sun will shine on for a year and a day._ ”

“I _thought_ it sounded familiar,” Varric said. “It’s ‘Under The Stone’.”

“No it’s not. It’s ‘Deep In The Valley’.”

“Same tune. Different words. Minstrels and bards borrow from each other more often than you think, little Hawke.” Varric paused to catch his breath and adjust his pack, then sang back in much the same tune the brothers were familiar with. “ _Under the stone where the stalkers creep, our ancestors lie in sleep. The spawn come crawling over the rocks, but the dwarva don’t give two ferrous f—_ ”

“VARRIC!”

“Hey, I didn’t write that part.” He turned to Anders. “What about you, Blondie? Does the tune remind you of anything?”

The mage’s face was a fragile, thoughtful-looking mask. He’d had much more practice putting it together, this one. “I think…well, when I was very young, there was a lullaby that sounded like that. My mother sang it to me, sometimes, if I couldn’t sleep.”

Nobody knew what Anders started singing after that, because nobody knew whether it was Anders or Common or something else altogether. But Hawke's eyes went a little moist, and Carver thumbed the small red scarf he’d tied around his belt and went even quieter than before.


End file.
